


Insouciant

by notjustmom



Series: Words, Words, Words [121]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluffy Angst, Gen, Johnlock Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:31:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5881213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>insouciant: adjective: inˈso͞osēənt,ˌaNso͞oˈsyäNt; showing a casual lack of concern; indifferent</p>
<p>Insouciant entered English from French, based on the French verb soucier meaning "to worry." Ultimately it finds its roots in the Latin sollicitāre meaning "to disturb."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insouciant

**Author's Note:**

> bit of a hospital scene...just felt the need for some angst tonight....

Lestrade watched the detective lean against the wall, his usual insouciant attitude intact, except for the slight tremor in the fingers that held the unlit cigarette.

"Wasn't your fault." He knew better than to try to touch him; the last thing he wanted was to be comforted.

"It's always my fault, Greg." He slowly slid down the wall and sucked in a breath of the frigid February air. He looked at his hands and grimaced.

"You know he could never live with himself if something happened to you because he wasn't there fast enough."

"I know." He whispered to himself, only partly listening. "We finally, uhm - ya know - damn, why am I telling you? You all thought we'd been together for years - he, we, I finally admitted to each other...hell."

Lestrade sat next to him and offered him his flask. "I know you don't normally, but you look like you need a good swig."

"Right. Thanks. Damn - not bad, decent single malt. You and Mycroft back at it?" A slight smile threatened to dance across his face.

"Yeah gonna give it another shot...you Holmes boys are-"

"Stop. Not another word."

"Is John okay?"

"Hmm? He's out of surgery, heart stopped once, they are taking him into recovery soon. Do you know how much I hate hospitals? I can't stand the smell, the colours, the lighting...I just need to get him home."

"Anything I can do?"

"Just try to keep Myc out of sight, I know he's pulling strings, but I can't deal with him tonight. Thank you, Geoff."

"Arse....he's going to be fine."

"Of course he is. Here, he'd kill me if he smelled smoke on me." He placed the cigarette in Lestrade's hand, took a deep breath and went through the door.

Sherlock entered John's room and sighed. "Why, why do you always - damn it, John." He fell into the chair next to John's bed and examined his hands again, hands that had struggled to keep his blogg - best friend - (damnit what the hell were they now?) from bleeding out less than six hours earlier. He tried to stay awake, but the rhythmic beeping of the machines lulled him to sleep.

A few hours later, he was awakened by the shrill alarms of the monitors going off. He jumped up to find John wide awake and confused. "Shhh, you are okay. I'm here. You are safe. Do you feel my hand?" A brief nod answered him. "Good. I'm not leaving, okay? I'm right here. Shhh. You were hurt, saving my stupid arse again. You really need to stop that...no don't shake your head at me, you idiot. I'd kiss you if my breath wasn't so horrible...aww fuck it." Sherlock managed to kiss John's hand before the nurses arrived and tried to pull them apart.

"Please? Let me stay? He'll be better if -"

A nurse who had been on call with them before sighed and nodded, "Just let us make him more comfortable? You know how this goes - right? Wish I saw less of you guys, ya know?"

"Believe me, I'm not thrilled to see you either - I'll behave, promise."

"Yeah, sure." But she nodded to the corner and he went, not wanting to get on her bad side this time.

After what felt like hours, they finally finished fluffing and smoothing and left them alone.

"Sh-"

"No. Please-"

"Ice chips?"

Sherlock grabbed the cup and slipped a single piece of ice into John's mouth, then used his finger to trace his lover's lips. "Let me, first? Please?"

John nodded carefully.

"You scared me, damnit. I couldn't stop -"

"Shhh."

"I need to tell you, because, I don't think you heard me two nights ago when I told you that I loved you. Because if you had heard that you would not have almost gotten yourself killed trying to protect me..."

"I love you, too." John managed to whisper. "More than anyone. Ever. Tha's why -"

"Can you be a little more careful next time?"

"I'll try. Come 'ere. Please?"

Sherlock somehow managed to squeeze next to John on the recovery bed and gently wrap himself around his blogger. John took his first deep breath and ran his fingers through his detective's curls.

"I love you, John."

"I know, git, go back to sleep, yeah?"


End file.
